30 Minutes or More
by FMAvatard
Summary: Arthur is a sexually repressed college student living in New York. One day, he orders a pizza... M for language, adult themes
1. Ordering

AN: This story holds many similarities to monobuu's, one of the fandom's many great authors, fanfiction "Act Natural" and it's epilogue "Scripted." I admire her work and read her stores frequently, but that one fell into the back of mind, and somewhere along the way the ideas came back to me and ended up here. Forgive me if it seems like I copied; that wasn't my intention whatsoever.

On that note, her fic is pretty damn amazing. Go check it out! She's 'monobuu' on Livejournal. =)

* * *

Arthur Kirkland slammed his textbook of poetic elements shut and tossed it to the other end of the sofa he was laying on. He'd skimmed the chapters countless times, done all the work there was to do weeks in advance, and now the entertainment value, as well as the educational aspect, was gone.

"Damn it."

It had been four months since the twenty-one year old had arrived in the United States under a study-abroad program from London. With perfect marks, a clean medical and criminal record, and proper income, there was no reason for the Brit to not jump at such an opportunity. So far, the country was lovely, or at least Manhattan was. The city of New York wasn't nearly as disgusting or crime-ridden as films made it out to be.

However, there had been a serious lacking in Arthur's social life. It had been four months since he'd moved from home to New York.

It had also been four months since Arthur had gotten laid.

That wasn't to say he hadn't tried. Oh, he'd tried...it was almost pathetic. He'd go bar-hopping, but normally ended up too plastered to even speak to anyone without crying about something or other. Arthur didn't have friends with benefits...or friends at all, really. Mostly he had been absorbed by his studies.

And now here was the result; spending a cold Saturday evening in New York City alone in his apartment, with a pizza on it's way to his doorstep from some new joint a few blocks away. Arthur had a penchant for food that would probably kill him within twenty years. Who could blame him? New York pizza gained it's fame for a reason.

One couldn't shag a pizza, though...

He pressed a pillow to his face, feeling more and more irritated with himself. What was he doing wrong? Was flirting different in the States? Wasn't his accent supposed to be an aphrodisiac here? He'd received attention, both male and female, but no dates. Masturbating had lost it's appeal since he'd found that sex was far better, so that wasn't even an option anymore...

The sound of his buzzer going off pulled Arthur from his musings, with a voice grating through the intercom.

"Large anchovy for Kirkland? Room 3-3?"

Ah. The food had arrived. Arthur raised himself from the indentation he'd made on the sofa, sighing lightly as he moved to the intercom. With a press of a button and a monotone "I'll buzz you in," he did just that, unlocking the front door for the delivery man.

Oh, what a world...he was going to die here, wasn't he? Yes. Arthur would die here, in the States. He had another eight months of this solitude, this fatty eating. He sighed again and went for his wallet in the kitchen. What had it been, fifteen-something? Might as well give the guy twenty; that tip would suffice.

There was a knock at the door. Arthur straightened up his "I Love New York" sweatshirt his mother had sent him through the post (a gag gift?) and went to the door, shuffling the bills in his hand as he opened it.

"That'll be fifteen dollars and thirty cents, sir."

Arthur glanced up from the bills to the delivery man and was shell-shocked. The person in front of him was perhaps the most stunning human he'd ever seen. Blonde hair that looked clean and well-groomed, save for a strange little cowlick near the front. A smile that came off far too genuine for someone with a job like this, bright and happy. He was tall and well-built, and Arthur assumed the short-sleeved shirt he wore was part of the uniform the pizza shop required...God bless them; it showed this person's excellently toned arms very well. And his eyes were a shade of blue that Arthur couldn't recall ever seeing. They were utterly enchanting.

"...sir?"

Arthur had been staring at them. 'Shit,' he thought, averting his eyes to the money he was about to exchange for food. What the hell!? People like this existed! This person was-

His eyes went back over him as he handed over the proper amount, his vision catching a name tag.

'Alfred Jones.'

Alright then.

Alfred Jones was gorgeous.

"Enjoy your meal, sir."

The delivery-boy raised an arm in farewell, leaving the flushed college student with nothing but a pizza and a dazed expression.

...no! That couldn't be it!

"W-wait!"

Arthur called out to the young man, stepping out of his apartment. Oh Lord, his backside was just as good as his front. He watched as Alfred turned around, looking confused yet still wearing that same smile.

"Yes, sir?"

...shit, what had he been going to say? Arthur's mind was in total shutdown, with reboot being a slow process.

"H-how old are you? I thought this country had laws against child labor."

What the hell! That was the best he could come up with? Though he did look young...

Much to his relief, Alfred laughed, a loud, boisterous sound that echoed through the hall.

"Don't worry, dude. I turn twenty in July. Have a good evening."

Arthur kept his gaze fixed on Alfred's retreat into the elevator, wondering if the jeans the employee was sporting could possibly be any tighter.

...nineteen.

That was over eighteen.

That gorgeous man was of legal age.

Praise every deity.

Arthur let a few days pass before calling the pizza company again. He didn't want to appear desperate after all, or gluttonous. No, a few days wait was in order, and it had nearly killed Arthur. All he could think about was Alfred Jones, the delivery-boy.

God, it seemed so cliché when he thought about it, trying to seduce the pizza guy. Did that make him pathetic?

...of course not.

The Brit had fixed up his hair (as much as he could, anyhow) and was wearing something decent this time. No lazy home attire for him.

The buzzer went off, causing him to jump and run over immediately, listening to the voice screech through.

"Mushroom with peppers for Kirkland? Room 3-3?"

"I'll let you in."

Oh God, okay. Don't blow it. Don't come on too strong, just...act normal, like any person would when...trying to...fuck the pizza man...

Arthur suddenly realized just how stupid this was. All too late, though, as there was a knock on the door. He opened it, revealing yet again what may have been the most amazingly sculpted creature on Earth. Alfred grinned at him, causing Arthur's heart rate to skyrocket.

"Hello again, Mr. Kirkland. That'll be sixteen-fifty?"

Oh fuck, he remembered him. He'd said his name, at least partially. Damn that accent of his was sexy.

"Yes, here you are. Thank you..."

Arthur looked to his name tag, as if noticing it for the first time. As if the name 'Alfred Jones' hadn't been running through his mind for days.

"...Alfred."

He felt another jolt of delight as Alfred's smile grew wider.

"Enjoy your meal."

And off he went again. Wait! Wait!

"How is it outside?"

...how is it outside? The hell kind of question was that? Alfred turned and came back a few steps, talking.

"Well, it's definitely February. Freezing out there."

He pulled at the short sleeve as example. Arthur nodded.

"Well...would you like to come in? I've got hot cocoa, if you'd like to-"

Arthur coughed. Damn it, keep talking. If he could just get him inside, it'd be smooth sailing from there. Why was this so difficult?

"I-I mean, if you'd like to warm up for awhile?"

Alfred smiled softly, a new expression that melted Arthur's soul.

"That's real nice of you, Mr. Kirkland, but I gotta get going. My boss is kinda strict on time, ya know?"

"Oh. Well...yes, of course. I'm sorry."

The Brit cursed himself as he bid Alfred goodnight, turning back to his apartment. He heard the delivery-boy's retreating footsteps go to the elevator.

"Maybe some other time, though. I've got a bad habit of getting where I need to be too early. People hate me for it."

Arthur whirled around, seeing Alfred smiling and waving at him in the elevator just as the doors were closing.

...did...had...had Alfred just flirted with him?

Arthur hardly noticed that he was crushing the box of pizza in his grip. Damn his nerves...


	2. Delivering

The water rained down from the shower-head, washing over Arthur Kirkland in soft but firm torrents. He'd spent about twenty minutes in the washroom, though not much washing was being done anymore.

Four days. That was the how long he'd waited this time. He decided from now on that he'd have to vary on how frequent his orders occurred; four days, then five, maybe three if he skipped a week...in any case, the plan he'd concocted was foolproof. Arthur would be in the shower. He had stepped in immediately after calling the pizza shop. He'd accomplished his hygienic practices about twenty minutes ago, and now, he stood in wait. He would stand in the shower until he heard his intercom buzz, heard that voice screech the delivery announcement. Then he would answer the intercom, let Alfred in, and answer the door...in nothing but a towel. Arthur would suavely invite the aroused delivery-boy into his apartment, and with any luck, the Brit would receive complaints from the neighbors below about the dreadfully loud noises from his room.

The dreadfully loud _sex_ noises.

This was brilliant. Arthur was a _genius_!

He jumped about a foot, nearly losing his footing in the shower as he heard the buzz ring throughout his apartment, followed by a voice that was just barely audible over the running water.

"Medium pineapple-mushroom for Kirkland?"

And the time had come.

Arthur quickly hopped out of the shower, turning off the spout and wrapping a towel around himself as he stepped out into his living room. He could do this, he could totally do this. His finger went to the 'Call' button.

"It's open."

He darted back into the washroom, mussing up his hair even more than usual. That way it would look more legitimate. Maybe more alluring? Yes, of course. People were attracted to disheveled hair these days.

...he wasn't nearly wet enough. Arthur turned on the sink and splashed some more water on his chest. Dripping, that's what he was going for. He didn't have much in terms of muscle mass, but he was fit. Lean.

Flexible.

The knocking on the door sent a handful of water flying across the washroom, startling Arthur. The time was literally now. He cleared his throat, placing a hand on the towel at his waist. He felt his pulse racing, his mind also speeding around on it's one-track; '_Think of something cool to say, like he did. Think of something cool!_'

With a hand on the knob, Arthur cleared his throat and put on his most charming smile. The door opened, and the words came tumbling out.

"Sorry, didn't want to keep you waiting."

"Jesus, you couldnt'a put a fucking shirt on?"

. . .

Beg pardon?

It registered to Arthur that the person in front of him was _not_ God's most perfect creation. No, this was someone else entirely. The uniform was the same, but this person had dark brown hair, and a frown that would've made even the crankiest senior citizen look chipper. The accent wasn't that of a smooth New Yorker, but an angry Italian, almost to the point of being comical. He was short, and his entire demeanor overall was just very unpleasant.

"It's fifteen-twenty, pal."

Arthur mumbled an apology and flushed as he went for the money on the counter, listening the muttered curses behind him.

This had been an incredibly flawed plan.

Why hadn't he even _thought_ about this as a possibility! A shop in New York, with only one delivery-boy? Of _course_ they'd have to have a large workforce!

"Here you are."

Arthur took the pizza, ignoring the "They don't pay me enough for this shit" as the exchange went down. The downtrodden student listened to the complaints as the stranger moved down the hall to the elevator.

"Fuckin' lady's _dog_ biting me, that guy bitching about not having a _drink_...fuck Al, he can do his _own_ damn shift..."

Arthur heard the elevator ding just before the last words. A high, poor mimic of what he assumed was Alfred.

"'I can't come in, I don't _feel_ well.' Fuckin' pussy..."

. . .

Alfred didn't feel well?

Arthur retreated back into his apartment with the pizza, feeling a knot in his stomach that certainly deterred his appetite. What exactly was 'not feeling well?' A cold? Flu? Pneumonia? It _was_ rather cold out these days-

. . .

Oh God.

The Brit stored the pizza in the refrigerator, a sense of nausea sweeping through his body. Was it _his_ fault? Had Arthur gotten Alfred sick? Had calling him out from the shop out into the blistering cold been a factor in his absence today? Was Alfred okay? Bedridden? In the hospital? How soon would he recover? Was it treatable? Was he injured!

Arthur lay on the sofa, ignoring that he was thoroughly soaking the cushions.

It was _definitely_ his fault...

"Damn it..."

He curled his legs toward him, trying to make the knot go away with no success. Arthur lay in a ball, near naked and guilty, almost the exact opposite of how he had hoped this night would end. Almost, of course, being that Arthur hadn't expected guilt. He'd expected the nudity, but not like this.

Who the fuck had that guy been, anyway! He was a poor employee, speaking that way to a customer!

...oh, Arthur didn't even care about that. He rolled over onto his back, feeling a massive chill come over him. Wetness and open air didn't quite mix. Getting dressed might be for the best, lest he end up like Alfred. The sweatshirt was starting to look pretty damn good right now, along with the pants to match. Did he have any sherbert left? He could use a pint or two.

Or the whole carton, whichever came first.

He returned to his living room, sitting in the loveseat instead. The sherbert idea was out, as there was none.

...perhaps his intentions _had_ been rather forward. Answering the door almost stark naked? How depraved was that? God, Arthur was desperate. But it wasn't his fault! Alfred was just so...perfect. His tan skin, the way he was always smiling...not to mention the delivery-boy possessed what might have the been the most perfect ass Arthur had ever _seen_.

The college student was told he had a great imagination, so he put it to use as he shut his eyes, envisioning his favorite employee. That strong, confident gait, the bold laugh, the way 'Kirkland' rolled smoothly off his tongue...he bet 'Arthur' would roll nicely off his tongue. Moaned lightly, loudly as his perfect hands clawed at the man who used to be just a customer's back. Begging for more in that fucking amazing accent, spreading his legs wide for Arthur to take him in deeper...

"Fuck..."

The hard knot had dissolved somewhat, but the stiffness had drifted below the waistband of Arthur's sweatpants. His hand drifted under the elastic, gasping softly as he grasped himself under his boxers. The sounds became more airy and high with each movement he made. Quiet moans of 'Alfred' and murmured words filled the apartment, his mind still creating fantasies.

_It's my first time...be gentle._

"I won't break you, love."

_M-Mr. Kirkland-_

"Call me Arthur."

_Arthur..harder, _please_._

"Yes, darling, _yes_..."

_Arthur, I'm-  
_

The blonde came with a sharp cry, panting lightly as he felt the dripping against his palm. He sat in the chair for several moments longer, coming down his ecstasy. Alfred floated away from Arthur's subconscious, quickly being replaced with self-loathing. He got up stiffly, knowing that a change in wardrobe was in order.

He never should have gotten out of bed. This day had been doomed from the start.

God damn it...

* * *

Thank you so much for the positive feedback! I honestly didn't think people would like it this much~ The reviews are and were very much appreciated. This is my first real fic, so I was _really_ freaking out. X'D I hope you enjoy!


	3. Paying

Arthur Kirkland didn't sulk. Sulking was childish, unbecoming...two attributes he most certainly did _not_ possess.

He may have been willing to be partially naked and soaking wet in front of someone who was, essentially, a total stranger, but that was different. Arthur had been fine with that.

Did that make him bold or stupid?

In any case, the snow fell hard over New York City. A week had passed since 'The Incident,' as Arthur called it now, and he had spent all seven days cooped up indoors. Whenever he wasn't at the university, he was in his apartment. He knew full well that he could go out, wear his nice coat and scarf, maybe even meet someone.

He just didn't _want_ to. Why would he ever need to? Arthur had enough tea to last him through a nuclear war. He had clean laundry, and a pizza on the way; ordering one had become sheer habit at this point. In fact, he'd ordered the pizza for food's sake. He was done with his shenanigans.

That didn't mean he was sulking. It's not like he actually _cared_ about Alfred or something. And it wasn't because of Alfred that he was staying at home. Hell no. Anyone who thought that would've been an idiot.

...but...since he was thinking about Alfred...

Alfred was _exceedingly_ out of his league. He was, to put it in the best terms possible, tall, dark, and handsome. So...excessively handsome. Arthur was just a skinny, pasty-faced, beanpole foreigner compared to him. Where Alfred was tall, Arthur lacked in height. Where Alfred had a charming laugh, Arthur's was nasally, something he'd always felt self-conscious about.

Who was Arthur kidding? Seducing him, _bah_. He probably wasn't even attracted to men. Someone like Alfred couldn't be single, now that he thought about it. He probably had a plethora of women after him. A solid girlfriend...

This entire venture had been fruitless. Fruitless and stupid.

It was wonderful that Arthur didn't sulk, or he might have become depressed rather quickly.

The intercom buzzed, echoing through the room. Arthur merely looked over from the sofa, waiting for the voice to follow.

"Large black olives with feta for Kirkland?"

It sounded even worse than before. Arthur sighed deeply as he got up and answered with a monotone "It's open."

...he was going to die here. The college student was sick of living like this, this God-awful..._life_. It wasn't even about sex anymore, just someone to _talk_ to would have been marvelous. A companion, or anything. All he had to do was walk out the door and find one. Yet he refused to.

There was a knock at the door.

Well. Here goes the first social interaction in a week. Arthur stiffly made his way to the door, praying that it wasn't that Italian. Anyone but him.

His eyes fell upon Alfred, and it made his heartbeat quicken.

"Hello again."

Arthur's voice was quiet, taking all of Alfred in. He may not have been pursuing him anymore, but there was nothing wrong with enjoying some eye candy. The delivery-boy had his eyes shut and the box held out, which was puzzling, but Arthur was almost grateful. This mean he could look at him a bit more closely.

"...do you have something in your eyes?"

"No. I just...ah..."

Arthur blinked, his eyes softening. Alfred sounded hoarse. Not only that, but it only took a second to realize what was going on here.

"Your coworker mentioned me, didn't he? Don't worry. I'm dressed."

The delivery-boy's eyes popped open, a sheepish grin coming to his face. It was enough to make Arthur's cheeks flush.

"Yeah...sorry if Romano...he's not the peppiest guy in the-"

Alfred stopped himself to cough off to the side. God, every second talking to him just made Arthur feel worse. He'd gotten him sick after all, or so he'd convinced himself of six days ago.

"It was seventeen-fifty, right?"

Alfred nodded through his coughing. Arthur quickly turned around, wanting to get away from the display as fast as he could. He gathered the bills, sighing again.

He wouldn't order from them anymore. Alfred was nice, as was the pizza, but he just couldn't deal with this sort of thing. This would be the last time. All of this had been ridiculous...pizza he hadn't eaten, all because he'd wanted to shag the man who brought it to him.

...God, who _did_ that!

"Go ahead and keep the change."

The college student handed over a twenty and took the box, looking at Alfred one last time.

"Thank you very much."

"Have a good evening."

Arthur nodded, hesitating before shutting the door. He resisted the urge to hug the pizza box to his chest, feeling an emptiness growing inside him that had nothing to do with hunger. Before he could sit down, there was a knock.

. . .

And another. Arthur was confused until he heard the voice. Quiet. Hoarse.

"Mr. Kirkland?"

He stared at the door, wondering if the universe hated him. What was this? A test? Nevertheless, Arthur went to the door, opening it and once again feeling shell-shocked.

Alfred looked cute. Cute wasn't an adjective Arthur used often, but now seemed appropriate. Alfred looked _cute_. His cheeks were rosy (embarrassment?), his eyes were shining differently (pleading?), and he had a hand on his arm, shuffling it as he looked to the floor. Arthur nearly lost it. How was someone like him even real?

"I-Is something wrong?"

"No...I...I-I just-"

Arthur was frozen. Just what the hell was going on here? This was adorable. The delivery-boy was _stuttering_.

"It's...I mean...I-I know you don't really know me, but...it's getting kinda..._really_ bad out there, and-"

"Of course you can stay."

Arthur jumped on it. The storm was getting bad, he was being a good Samaritan. And if things went a different way, then so be it. Praise everything. All was wonderful, yes, _yes_. Alfred coughed before smiling softly at him, melting his soul for the hundredth time.

"Thanks. Is that hot chocolate offer still good?"

"Absolutely, come on in. I'll turn the heat up."

Maybe the universe didn't hate Arthur Kirkland.

He flitted about, first to the kitchen to prepare the cocoa, and then to the living room. Arthur pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and handed it to Alfred, smiling gently.

"Make yourself comfortable. Do you need a change of clothes? That cough didn't sound very good. Do you need to call anyone?"

"I'm fine, don't have a heart attack."

The response was said with a laugh. Arthur could listen to it all day. The microwave went off and out came the cocoa mug. He mixed it with a shot of chocolate syrup and added some whipped cream before bringing it to his honored guest. Arthur sat next to Alfred, reveling in how strange this was.

"Well I can't exactly have someone _dying_ in my apartment. Especially someone I don't know."

"Alfred Jones. Nineteen, working for school, one brother, six-foot two...I dunno what that is in metric. Sorry. Thanks for the drink."

Arthur was startled, genuinely surprised at the fact Alfred had just divulged himself like that.

"...Arthur Kirkland. Twenty-one...part of a study-abroad program. From London originally, one of four brothers, who are all arrogant pricks, and..."

He coughed, masking over the "five-foot seven."

Alfred looked up, eyes wide.

"Twenty-one? I thought you were way older than that!"

"What? How on earth would you...are you calling me old?"

"Old people forget stuff, that's all I'm saying. Ya know, like how to get dressed."

Alfred nonchalantly sipped his hot chocolate while Arthur started fuming.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting was all!"

"You mean Romano."

"...yes."

. . .

"I mean, it wasn't like I was expecting you _specifically_, when I said 'you,' I meant 'you delivery-people.' Not _you_, Alfred Jones the delivery-boy, that would've been stupid."

. . .

"Is it warm in here?"

"It feels okay."

Alfred had been staring at Arthur during the entirety of the rambling. He was dying. Christ, kill him, this was _torture_.

"...you okay, Arthur?"

Oh God, no. Please. Don't.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. I should be asking _you_ that."

"Me specifically or the other delivery-people?"

Arthur flushed horribly, looking away from the attractive man on his couch.

"...you specifically."

"Yeah. Better now."

He nodded towards Arthur, smiling quietly.

"Thanks."

"Anytime. No thanks necessary."

There was a moment of silence. In that moment, Arthur reflected on his life choices. Everything he'd done within this month had resulted this. An overly attractive delivery-boy wreaking of sex appeal, whose every move and syllable made Arthur insane, was on his couch. Wrapped in his blanket. Drinking from his mug. He'd rather he be wrapped in his arms, drinking from his-

"I mean, I kinda thought it was weird that the old guy in the building was hitting on me and trying to get me into his room, but since you're twenty-one it doesn't seem as bad."

. . .

...wait.

_Wait one fucking second._

"W-what? What on earth are you...I'm not..._what_?"

Alfred laughed, confusing the living fuck out of Arthur.

"I'm not stupid. If I'd been wearing a mirror you'da seen it! All slack-jawed and wide-eyed. It was kinda adorable. Like a high-school girl or something."

. . .

The earth was crumbling. The sky was falling. The sea was shriveling into dust.

Arthur's face was redder than the sauce on the pizza he'd been ordering obsessively and his mouth was agape.

This wasn't happening. This was _not_ happening. Alfred had...no he hadn't...but..._what_?

"I...I-I didn't..."

His voice died. There was absolutely nothing he could say to this person. Alfred had caught him.

Alfred had caught him since day one.

He'd _kept it on his mind_ since day one...

"Whoah. You're not gonna like, burst out in blood are you? You're like, really red!"

Arthur sat, staring at the floor. The room was spinning.

"...Alfred, was there a point in embarrassing me the way you just did?"

There was a pause.

"I...I mean, I wasn't _trying_ to embarrass you...I like you, Arthur."

That's when everything went black. Mostly because the power in the building went out, but also because Arthur Kirkland had passed out cold.


	4. Consuming

Candles burned all around, their light flickering softly around Arthur's bedroom. His eyes fluttered open slowly, taking in his surroundings.

The first and probably the most important thing he noticed was Alfred at the foot of his bed, smiling softly at him. His mouth was moving, but it felt as if Arthur's ear were filled with cotton.

The second thing was that he wasn't wearing his sweatshirt anymore. He was under blankets, but that much was obvious…and…and what the hell was with the candles? It seemed rather romantic, yet somehow, waking up in a daze shirtless didn't come off quite as sexually charging as he'd imagined.

Without thinking, Arthur sat up, clutching his forehead.

"The hell's going…did we do it?"

Even in the candlelight, he could make out his guest's reddening face.

"…no. We…uh, no. No we didn't. Were you listening? You really freaked me out back there…you just kinda…"

He hit the mattress gently with his palm to demonstrate fainting.

"You hit the floor pretty hard. Lucky you missed the coffee table…or is it a tea table for you guys? Anyway, I carried you in here. You felt like you were on fire, so-"

Alfred paused, gesturing to Arthur's upper torso.

"…yeah. I just figured…any little bit would help, ya know?"

. . .

He'd fainted. Arthur had conked out. Alfred had undressed him, and he hadn't even been awake to enjoy it!

Arthur looked at Alfred, clearing his throat as he moved his gaze to the sheets.

"I'm…I'm terribly sorry. That doesn't happen often, I mean…I'm sorry you had to put up with that."

"Nah, don't worry about it dude. You can't be more than a hundred pounds, right? It was nothing."

"Well, still. Some host I turned out to be. And…ah, speaking of that. Why are there…?"

The candles. The romantic atmosphere was what Arthur was getting at here.

"Oh. Yeah. Power went out, like, the same time you dropped like a rock. It's kinda funny, when ya think about it."

"…hilarious."

"So you're okay? You're not still warm, are you?"

The college student froze as Alfred's hand went to his forehead, apparently testing for a temperature.

Oh God.

_What_.

No.

They were touching.

Shit.

_Shit_.

_Abort_.

_Systems failing_.

"I-I'm fine now, don't worry."

"…okay."

There was a silence between the two men.

"I'll just go then…"

Alfred frowned, taking his hand from Arthur. That was a new expression for the delivery-boy. Arthur didn't like it. Not one bit. So much so that he grabbed the retreating wrist before it got too far away. Complete reflex, startling the both of them.

"Arthur, what-?"

And the words came falling out again, without any control or filter.

"I'm fine, just…you can stay here. For awhile, I mean. The roads can't be good right now, and…and I might lapse again, who knows? And you're sick, I wouldn't want you getting worse, I mean, I already blame myself, this month is just _ghastly_, and-"

He was interrupted by a laugh. Alfred's laugh. A different laugh. A soft, gentle laugh

Alfred's soft, gentle laugh, and a light kiss to where his hand once was, catching Arthur completely off-guard.

"Knew it."

. . .

Arthur wobbled slightly, causing Alfred to grip his arms firmly. Oh God. Just push him down and be done with it.

"Please don't pass out again."

"I won't."

"Ya sure?"

"…not really."

He managed to look up from the blankets to Alfred. He looked cute again…blushing, and grinning like a kid who'd been caught sneaking cookies before supper, and just…cute. He wasn't even sure what the fuck was going on anymore…he'd kissed him. Right? Or was he still out of it? Right. He was dreaming.

"So…twenty-one. That's only two years."

…what?

"Okay. Before you pass out again, and before I lose my nerve…would you like to...I mean, if you're free...go out sometime?"

"I don't pass out all the time, geez..."

Had Alfred just asked him out? This was definitely a dream. Surely.

…but if this were a dream, they'd probably be fucking each other's brains out right now. So…no?

Alfred had just invited him out on a date.

. . .

"I'd…love to?"

The delivery-boy's face broke out into a grin, pulling Arthur into a hug.

"Really? Awesome! Awesome, we can-"

He stopped, letting go of Arthur immediately. The Brit's eyes were wide and his cheeks were aflame.

"Uh…sorry. I'm kinda…everyone thinks I'm too touchy-feely and uh…sorry."

"It's fine."

More than fine.

He and Alfred had a date.

And for whatever unholy reason (the Earth had ended a short while ago), Arthur wasn't imagining on how to get in Alfred's pants.

Maybe a good place to start would be to get his lips just a few inches down from his forehead.

…yes…that seemed a right good place to begin.

"…so, you're not like, narcoleptic or something, right?"

"No, Alfred. Not narcoleptic."

"Oh thank God. Cause I dunno what I'd do if some old fart like you kept taking naps everywhere."

"Are you trying to prevent a second date after the first one? I'm not fond of sabotage."

"Are you saying you're interested in a second date before I've even taken you on a first one?"

Arthur looked at him. That smug grin, that blonde hair falling lightly over his forehead. The blue eyes that sparkled in the candlelight. He drank in the sight, leaning forward slightly and sweeping the hair aside, kissing the skin. Oh God. Oh God.

"I think I _am_ saying that."

He stayed close, shaking slightly. Oh God, fuck, he'd done it. He'd kissed him. Maybe not as sensually as he'd have liked, but…somehow, this was just as good. Maybe better. At least it was good seeing Alfred's reaction. He had to imagine it mirrored his own.

And it did. Alfred was surprised. Genuinely surprised. He was cute again.

Suddenly a hand was on Arthur's cheek; Alfred, holding him steady as their lips met.

. . .

Arthur's hands flew up, pushing Alfred back a smidge.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

He watched Alfred's face fall, something between fear and disappointment.

"I…I didn't…I mean, I thought you were-"

The delivery-boy didn't get a chance to finish as Arthur lunged back into the kiss, placing his hands on Alfred's shoulders. He nearly toppled the two of them off the bed with the amount of force he'd put in. Luckily, he'd judged Alfred correctly in being strong and they were fine. Perfectly fine, seeing as Alfred was returning the kiss just as fervently.

…pushing him down gently to the mattress as his hands moved over Arthur's bare shoulders.

Arthur's fingers carefully hooked Alfred's uniform and lifted it over his head. He started running a hand through that sandy blonde hair as they kept up the kiss. Breathing wasn't that necessary, right?

…Alfred was better than he had anticipated. Excellent.

"Have-"

Arthur stopped, panting lightly.

"Have you got anything?"

Alfred paused, then nodded, getting up off the bed.

"My wallet's in the living room. I've got a rubber."

He kissed Arthur again before leaving with a "Be right back, doll."

Arthur lay there, confused and mentally ravished. Finally, he shouted his thoughts to the den.

"…but we're not _writing_ anything!"

* * *

Thank you all so much for reading and writing reviews! I enjoyed writing this far more than I should have. XD If you would like, I could write a bonus chapter. An omake of sorts (is that the proper term to use? Hm). Anyway, thanks again!


	5. Leftovers

The cell phone in Arthur Kirkland's pocket buzzed, prompting him to stop on the sidewalk. The university was only a few more blocks away, and he was always fairly early. He could take this.

The student took the device from his pocket, smiling at the name on his display as he flipped it open.

"Did I forget something?"

"Do you ever?"

Arthur laughed, covering his mouth immediately before it got out of hand. He kept moving down the sidewalk, enjoying the hot summer air, the sun. June was a splendid month. Not terribly hot, not terribly humid. Just right. May was rainy and July was a volcano of heat in Lucifer's oven. June was just right.

Of course, every month was wonderful in it's own way. Every month was one more month spent with Alfred.

Their first date had been to the pizza shop where Alfred worked. Adorable, in it's own way. They hadn't had sex; that little obstacle had been cleared the night before, as well as Arthur's mind. That had been cleared as well.

Arthur had been doing _quite_ well since then.

And here they were now, four months later. The two had been living together since April.

"Aw come on. I love it when you laugh."

"No, how could you? It sounds awful…like a cat in garbage disposal."

"Does that mean I get to call you kitten?"

"Absolutely not."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle.

"Was there a reason you called? You don't miss me already do you?"

"I was wondering if you're gonna be home for lunch."

The Brit looked at the corner of his phone.

"I'm free between eleven and four, dear. Plenty of time for food."

"Awesome. I'm making pizza."

Arthur scoffed, seeing the school up ahead.

"Seriously?"

"Why the tone! I'm a pro at making this stuff! But I'll warn you, I'm not gonna put anything weird on it. If you want fish or lint or something on it, it'll have to be a side-dish."

"I don't eat lint, God."

"Everything you ordered was _weird_, dude."

"Shut up!"

He sighed.

"Pizza sounds fine. I'm at uni. I'll call you when I'm on my way home, alright?"

"Yeah…later, Artie."

"Don't call me tha-"

_Click_.

The dial tone beeped in Arthur's ear, signaling that his boyfriend had hung up on him.

"Prat," he murmured with a smile as he hurried into the building.

"…and just what in the _hell_ have you done to my apartment?"

Arthur opened his door to see flour and spices covering his kitchen. Powder was on the floor, bits of cheese and meats sprinkled the counters…and a delicious aroma permeated the air, as well as Alfred's nervous laughter. The clock read 11:10.

"You're home earlier than I thought."

"Clearly."

Alfred walked over and kissed Arthur's forehead.

"I just put it in the oven. Didn't get a chance to clean up yet."

"And again I say, clearly."

"Hey wait, isn't it our apartment?"

"For argument's sake, it's my apartment."

Alfred laughed.

"Right, of course."

He stood in front of Arthur, looking down at him with his winning smile. Arthur could only stare at him for a moment longer before kissing him, standing on the tips of his toes. Damn his height…Alfred didn't seem to care as he grinned, kissing back lightly.

"So you _did_ miss me?"

"…I didn't miss you, I just thought it'd be nice to kiss you right now. No big deal."

"Kissing you is always a big deal."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Alfred kissed him again, holding Arthur close. It was only until he felt his boyfriend try to breath that he stopped. Kissed him until he was breathless. Perfect. Arthur looked dazed and…dare Alfred say it? Cute?

"…it…it means I really like doing it. And…you know…"

Arthur looked up at his boyfriend, still trying to get the air back in him. Damn, that had been good. His gaze moved to the oven.

"How much longer until that's done?"

Alfred followed his eyes.

"Ah…I think half an hour?"

"And when do you have work?"

"My shift starts at two."

"Oh, that's perfect then. Come on."

He grabbed Alfred by the hand and pulled him into the living room. Arthur turned around and fell backward on the sofa, bringing his boyfriend down with him in another kiss. Alfred laughed, wrapping his arms around his former customer.

"Say it."

"S-say what?"

"You missed me."

"…I was only gone for a few hours."

"And every hour spent away was _absolute torture_, wasn't it?"

Alfred smiled, kissing Arthur's neck. He'd learned most of the places that made his boyfriend tick, and that was definitely one of them. If the small gasps weren't indication enough, than it was the stuttering admission he received.

"M-maybe I did, I…I missed you. Just a b-bit though."

Alfred grinned again, running a hand through Arthur's hair and kissing him.

"Knew it."

"Shut up."

Arthur turned his head to the coffee table, fiddling with the drawer handle until it opened. They should be…ah, here. He pulled out a string of condoms, tearing one from the bunch as he placed it back in the drawer.

"…you're keeping them here now?"

"No, these are a different set."

"Pervert."

"I am not! I just don't know where we're going to do it anymore, so I just figured…all over might be handy. Better than getting up to the other end of the house."

"…pervert."

"Shut up, Alfred."

"Make me."

"Fine."

Arthur sat up a bit and kissed Alfred, pulling his hair just a bit as he switched their positions. He started removing his shirt as he straddled him, working on Alfred's shortly after.

"I don't know how you can call me a pervert, you're one who-"

"Hey, Arthur?"

A hand went to Arthur's wrist, stopping him from disrobing his boyfriend. This was new. Had he done something wrong? Concern filled him immediately.

"…yes, Alfred?"

"Uh…ya think maybe we could…um…I wanna…maybe I could…?"

Alfred's voice faded out as he noticed Arthur's expression changing; face flushing, eyes widening. Shit, he'd upset him, hadn't he?

"Arthur, I didn't…no, no forget it, it's fine, it's fine, just-"

"It _is_ fine."

Arthur took a deep breath.

"…more than fine, really. Yes. Ah…sure. Absolutely."

He stared down at Alfred for a moment before quietly trading off their places again. Okay. They were…switching off. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Let's just ignore the fact Arthur had never really bottomed before and this was _perfectly_ fine.

"A-are you sure?"

"Yes. I trust you, darling."

Darling. One of the pet names he reserved for moments like these. There were a good deal of them.

"…awesome."

Alfred looked to the drawer.

"Everything else in there?"

"Everything else is in there. Remind me to buy more next time I go out."

"Got it," Alfred murmured, taking the bottle of lube from the drawer. They were indeed running low.

Was that a problem? He'd like to think it was a good problem to have.

"Have you ever…?"

"Nope."

…was _that_ a good problem to have?

"But I've been learning from the best, so…I think it'll be fine."

Arthur felt his face burn. 'The best?'

"I wouldn't say I'm the best, but-"

Alfred silenced him with a kiss.

"Best _I've_ ever had."

"…a-alright…"

Alfred needed to stop that. It was like every time they kissed meant a restart. Alfred could win any argument with a good kiss, damn him.

He ran his fingers through Arthur's hair before working the rest of their clothes off, taking a bit more time on Arthur.

"You got some sun!"

There was just the slightest bit of skin coloration between Arthur's arms and his torso.

"I know, I hate it…summer's not kind to the pale ones."

"I like it. I like every part of you."

Arthur flushed again as Alfred complimented him, whispering his words against his chest. Whatever he'd done to deserve such a wonderful partner as him, he didn't know.

Alfred was _exceedingly_ out his league. He was gorgeous and handsome, yet he chose to live with Arthur. His sense of humor was strange but fitting…he was the only person who could really make Arthur laugh. His touch was gentle, but strong and comforting. Talking to him was a joy. The past four months had been amazing, just being with him, sleeping with him, living with him…

If Arthur were insane, he'd might even say he loved Alfred.

…but…he couldn't _love_ Alfred, right? Alfred certainly couldn't love him. How could he?

He was in so much of a daze he'd hardly noticed that Alfred had gotten the both of them stripped down to nothing.

"You okay, doll?"

"Y-…yeah."

"…we don't have to if you don't-"

"What? No. Hell no, I want to, trust me."

"Okay."

Arthur watched as Alfred put just a bit too much lube on his fingers. Oh well…better too much than too little, he supposed. He looked nervous.

"Okay, uhm…just tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?"

"Alfred, I'll be fine. Just go ahead. Do what you think I'd do."

His boyfriend nodded, still looking a bit shaky as he placed a hand on Arthur's leg. Alfred kissed the knee lightly, along with the insides of Arthur's thighs. His reward was a soft mewl from his partner.

"J-just do it if you're going to do it!"

"You do this to me."

"Yeah, to _y-you_. Don't…ah…"

…that felt far too good. The kisses turned to small nips and sucking. Alfred had managed to elicit a good amount of moaning from Arthur, and he hadn't even begun yet.

"You're amazing like this…"

"Shut up."

Alfred leaned over and kissed Arthur's stomach, smiling.

"…I'm gonna do it now, okay?"

"Alright…I'm ready."

"…good."

There was a moment of silent tension just before Alfred pushed the first finger inside of Arthur, who winced just a bit.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, really."

"Cause I want you to tell me if you're-"

"Alfred, _please_. I can only tell you if you actually-"

"Got it, sorry."

He took a deep breath before moving his digit slowly inside Arthur, stretching him out. Arthur was tensed for several moments until he realized he could exhale. He did so, breathing softly, deeply.

"Babe?"

"S-still fine…"

"Do you want more?"

"…yes, go on."

Alfred worked Arthur a bit more before slipping the second digit in as gently as he could. Arthur's small cry made him immediately concerned.

"Are you-"

"Alfred please, _stop worrying_. Christ, I can't relax if you _keep_ like this…"

"…sorry. Okay."

He slowly rubbed against the inside of Arthur, watching his partner squirm just a bit from discomfort. Alfred couldn't help but worry.

"…you're beautiful, Arthur…"

Alfred murmured against his Brit's thigh, kissing it again as he picked up the pace inside. Every sound his partner made was encouraging. Especially when they began to sound a bit more pleasant…moans and words, 'faster' and 'more.'

"Alfred…I-I think you can-"

"Okay, babe."

He took his fingers from Arthur, listening to him whine a bit.

"Come _on_…"

"Hang on, I gotta put the thing on."

"_It's not on yet_!"

"I thought you were gonna change your mind!"

"Oh for fuck's sake…"

Alfred struggled with the condom wrapper for a moment before it came open, slipping it over his cock carefully. He ignored the desperate 'Hurry up' from below him.

"I didn't know you were so demanding."

"Me either. Now _please_, Alfred."

"Hang on."

Alfred would be lying if he said the fact Arthur was begging for him didn't turn him on in just the slightest. After getting himself slicked up with the lube, he opened Arthur's legs and positioned himself.

"Ready?"

"Of course."

"…good."

Alfred took a deep breath before pushing himself into Arthur. A resounding "_Fuck_" came from the both of them, Arthur's from mild pain, and Alfred's from quite the opposite.

"_Jesus_, Arthur, you're _tight_."

"H-hush…shit, that…_move_."

"Got it."

Alfred knew this was probably hell for his boyfriend right now. He remembered their first time; Alfred was convinced it was equivalent to being set on fire. He kept his thrusts slow and timed for Arthur's benefit, as much as he wanted to just _go_.

"A-Alfred…"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Stop calling me that, you kn-know I hate i-"

Arthur lost the rest of his sentence to a moan, his back arching slightly.

"F-faster."

"You sure? I mean-"

"_Alfred_."

"Got it."

And it had finally gotten good. Great, even. The living room was filled with sounds of passion, mostly from Arthur; Alfred had never realized just how loud his boyfriend could be. He intended to get more out of him, kissing at his thighs some more and enjoying the feeling of Arthur's fingernails digging into his shoulders. The slight sting was worth it.

"Darling, I…I don't think I-"

"S'okay, just…m-me, too, go ahead, _fuck_, Arthur…"

Alfred raised Arthur gently up, sitting him up on his lap and feeling gravity do it's work. He had all of himself in Arthur right now. That was fine, but now he could hold and kiss his boyfriend more easily.

"Make a mess, babe."

"A-Alfred-"

It was with a sharp gasp and mewl that Arthur came, ribbons of cum hitting the both of their torsos and chests. Alfred followed shortly after, feeling Arthur shudder around him. He held Arthur tightly, letting the both of them catch their breath as he lay them back on the sofa.

"You…y-you okay?"

Arthur answered Alfred with a kiss, kisses. All over his face and neck, causing the delivery-boy to laugh and hold him tighter.

"So you're a _loud_ softie."

"Shut up."

…holy _hell_ that had been good. And to think, it could only get better from here. Arthur was excited.

He lay on Alfred's chest, listening to his partner breathe, his heart beating. It was a beautiful sound. Arthur loved it more than anything.

…loved Alfred's heart more than anything. And his laugh, and his cooking, and eyes…oh God, his eyes.

He loved Alfred more than anything.

"…hey, Alfred?"

"Mm?"

The blonde looked up, rubbing Arthur's back gently.

"Yeah, babe?"

"…I…I think I-"

He stopped, his face wrinkling.

"…is something burning?"

Alfred's face fell, looking around and sniffing the air.

"…oh shit, _lunch_!"

The both of them looked over to the kitchen, finally noticing the good amount of smoke drifting from the oven. How long had they been at it!

"Damn it…I'd made it good, too."

Alfred looked dejected, making Arthur hug him just a bit.

"It's alright…we can just order out, can't we?"

"I guess…were you gonna say something?"

"…yeah, um…I…I was just thinking that…"

Arthur was shaking just a bit. Alfred instinctively grabbed the student's arms, speaking softly.

"Don't do it, man."

"I'm _not_, Alfred."

"But-"

"I'm _not_ going to pass out, I'm trying to think of how to tell you I love you! Now _give me a second_!"

. . .

Fuck.

"…what?"

Alfred looked up at him with a stupid grin, causing Arthur to blush. Shit. Damn it…

"I…I love you."

No big deal.

Apparently it was, as Alfred leaned up and kissed him instantly.

"…really?"

"Yeah…why would I say that and not mean it?"

"I love you, too."

. . .

Come again?

"I love you, too, Alfred."

"…I love you, too, Arthur..."

They were both smiling now, a bit wobbly, and repeating themselves, but nevertheless. The kissing began again, a bit more innocent than before…they were in love. Loving kisses.

The smoke, however, could care less about their love for each other, as the overhead sprinklers came to life and drenched the two with ice cold rivulets of water. The screams of shock could be heard from outside.

Maybe this would be difficult to explain when the fire department arrive later, but to Arthur, it was the start of their adventure together. The ice cold, smoke-filled beginning of their adventure.

And to think it had all started with a pizza.

* * *

And that's that! Thank you all so very much! This chapter was just for ya'll~


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